Well, Duty calls (Green Goblin)

[Slade ''DeathStroke'' Wilson]

The streets were empty as Slade made his way to his hotel, he was not in his DeathStroke armor, he had just gotten to the Big Apple, and he was enjoying it a bit before he got down to business. He was leaving a local bar that had a mellow atmosphere, of course he didn't get wasted, he still had work to do, only one drink had been consumed and that would be out of his system within the hour. Of course he was here on a job, his client wanted a creep named Green Goblin dead. A weird name, even for a guy named Death Stroke, but who was he to judge, it was just another pay check to him. He moved into the hotel room and went up to his room using the key card they gave him to get in. On the inside everything was set up to his liking. He had his armor and weapons in the bathroom where he had began cleaning them. Nothing felt better than clean mechanics on your weapon system. Putting rounds on target was always a good feeling, for a mad man anyways, and fortunately for the profession, Slade enjoyed getting paid to kill someone. And he was indeed pretty good at it.

His sword made of Promethium sat against the wall, it's gleam lit the room for a bit before he picked it up and began to run a clean cloth down it and back up. It was an efficient weapon, silent, straight to the point, no extra detail to it, though he did use it to reflect bullets every now and again. He set it down and moved across the room picking up the pieces of his ACR rifle. This weapon was a bit more front street than anything else. It had been customized so it was capable of more output with less recoil. It was fitted with a longer barrel, a better stock and muzzle along with a top flight grip. His sight of choice was the dual scope with a different sight for close range, and a longer one attached for longer distances. All in all, this ACR was top of the line and so were all of his weapons that he chose to bring with him. Next he picked up his fully loaded .50 caliber rifle. Normally he didn't have to use that, it was really messy, anywhere on the human body that it hit, was instantly turned into mush, a reddened mess. Adjusting the scope on it, he aimed at the wall to assure the scopes accuracy, then placed it back in it's resting position before picking up and strapping on his armor. He picked up his two pistols, placing them in their holsters before packing a few knives and explosives. It paid to be this ready, and this skilled at using all of these weapons, handsomely might I add. After a moment of composing all of his equipment, he stood there before placing on his mask and stepping to the window before stepping out onto the fire escape and leaping to the roof tops to overlook the city.

His client told him the man would be in the city, so finding him now was the important part. DeathStroke ran for the edge of the roof and jumped over to the next one. Atop that was his motorcycle, which he had placed there for him before the start of the mission. He revved it and drove it towards the edge and guided it off the building down to the street where he began streaking between the cars moving to the target's last known location, perhaps he would have to do some interrogation, no big deal.

[Norman "Green Goblin" Osborn]

I've been burning bridges all day

I think I'll just knock this one down!

Oh how splendid the night was, It was the best time of the hours as far as Norman was concerned. There was nothing he had to hide. The man could truly be himself. Vile, mean, blood-thirsty. There was no upstart in his city. No New York was under his thumb both politically and physically. Norman owned the Bugle as the Goblin owned the streets. More then capable of rendering spiderman to smear on the side of a building several times. Their relationship was a bit rocky at best. So the Green Goblin killed a few people. Spidey had let a few of die. What was the point in protecting them . These normal people would turn on him. An Norman wanted nothing more then to be there to laugh in his face when it happened.

The face of the mask he wore to cover his own was in a permanent grim cheshire grin. The hideous yellow eyes glowed like fire and were brimming with insanity. His purple gloved hand placed forward on metal of the glider and it climbed towards the night sky in a scream of rockets. The Goblin was out to play. Oh but what fun law in store tonight. He crouched forward upon the craft to level it out for the time being. Hovering ever so slightly over the skyscrapers before leaning to the side directing the craft towards the left. Piloting such a thing was a skill, like surfing with a snow board. His reflexes were a thrill to behold, Lightening quick and deadly when coupled with the devices and strength he employed.

With a sinister cackle the craft tore through the sky down towards the crowded streets below. Who was he kidding. this was new york it was always crowded. Barely feet above the roof of the cars as he rocketed past. Sending the people who inhabited the place into a frenzy. Bystanders climbing over one another like a stampede to escape a very real terror. Too bad he had not attacked. Dropped a bomb or anything. Norman just liked to watch the cattle that was the human race flee in terror.

[Slade ''DeathStroke'' Wilson]

So he was wrong, he wouldn't have to interrogate anyone, his informant told him the target rode around on a glider type deal, but little did he know the guy was a psycho, terrorizing people. Wilson's eyes locked on the fiend as he piloted his craft down towards the street. With his own reflexe4s acting, Slade took his hands from his control on the bike pulling his ACR from his back and taking aim while slowing down. As soon as his shot was aligned, he pulled the trigger, releasing several bullets towards Norman. As he came to a stop he began to wonder, just when did he become someone who protected the people on the street, they were in terror, and the target was the reason, so he was kind of the hero, but not really cause he was in it for a check instead of for the well being of the surrounding people. Of course he had his morals, if there was a kid somewhere about to get injured, he was sure he'd do his best to help, but that was about it. Wilson jumped from his bike and parked it before putting his ACR back on his back and pulling his sword and placing it on the ground with the hilt acting as a cane for him. He looked up at Goblin and prepared himself for a fight. They told him that the guy had ''abilities'', but that didn't scare him much, he was The Terminator, the only thing that mattered was the objective.

Now was the time for some well earned shit talking to urge his opponent down from his flying object, if the bullets hadn't knocked him off his rocker to begin with. ''Ohhhhh, Goblin.... The doctor's here ta see ya!'', he yelled out while checking to make sure all of his ammo was prepared. It was time for shit to get real, the best way to christen a new gun, and he was in possession of two of them. He took his .50 caliber Barrett rifle from his back and took aim once more for the flying man. He fired twice, the kick of the rifle was stopped because luckily he was very strong. The two shots were aimed one at Goblin's chest, and the other at his glider. It had such recoil, a normal man would have had to be in a sedentary position, but DeathStroke was capable of firing it on the move. It was an asset, as he put it back on his back and picked the sword back up before getting in his stance.

[Norman "Green Goblin" Osborn]

I've been burning bridges all day

I think I'll just knock this one down!

Oh now that was not the best of ideas. Unaware of the people before him, rather who was in the crowd was one thing. But for one of them to actually shoot at him was another. Let alone hit him. Not that it did anything but piss the goblin off. Norman's suit was already designed to be bullet proof, not to mention that his flesh underneath it was was well. The Goblin formula had truly and effectively bonded to him, and no one else properly. Even given the haphazard nature of it. What doesn't kill you, and all that jazz.

The Green Goblin turned the glider, taking subsequently more rounds to the chest. It did nothing. perhaps just a small hole on the tunic from the higher caliber round. Pathetic humans and their guns. Norman would show this foll just what for. Though he could not tell if the round that bounced from the metal of the glider was a miss or this man was just trying to knock him from it. Either way, it didn't work.

He crouched forward much as a cat would and bore down, leaning his ankles forward, causing the glider to reach unheard of speeds. Granted the fuel was to be depleted faster but he wasn't going to be on the thing much longer. With clever movement, Norman disengaged the magnetics in his boots. Operating within beats of his heart was precision at its finest.

The Spear of the glider extended from the ghoulish bat on the front like a razor lined tongue. Just before reaching This human in a costume. The goblin leaned back, flipping himself off the glider. Leaving it on auto pilot to hopefully spear the man. If not it would make a last minute maneuver and blast skyward until Norman needed it again.